


Message Failed to Send

by YourLocalPriestess



Series: Message Failed To Send [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Destroy Ending, So much angst, Text Messages, angst angst angst, edi and joker are v background, like immediately post-destroy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:34:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8491747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourLocalPriestess/pseuds/YourLocalPriestess
Summary: It doesn't feel real to Garrus. It doesn't feel like over three years have passed since he met Shepard, since he first started following her into this bloody clusterfuck in an effort to save the galaxy. It doesn't feel like it's over.  It doesn't feel like she's gone. He stays in her cabin, because it feels like maybe any moment she'll walk through that door and lie there with him like they used to. And he remembers it all so well. He remembers everything they ever did or said in painful clarity. He re-reads every message they sent when they were separated, from every year. And sometimes, he still sends new ones.





	1. Denial

**Author's Note:**

> Garrus POV. This is how I think it really went right after the ending (or how it should've). This fic is inspired and references on occasion build up from the fic Commander Shepard, You've Got Mail (https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7876115/1/). I could not make contact for explicit permission, but all credit goes where credit is due for inspiring this type of fic. 
> 
> Enjoy! ^_^

The first thing Garrus registered was throbbing all over his body. He let out a groan, subharmonics wavering with the pain he couldn’t voice. He tried to remember exactly where he was, what was going on, how he’d gotten here. He reached for his widow only for his talons to hit firm mattress, a trademark of medical units. So he was in a medbay. With no gun. No gun, no memory. Was Shepard here, too? Shepard…

He shot up as the memories came flooding back to him. A growl escaped him as a sharp pain shot up his chest, stealing his breath. His hand gripped the bed, forcing himself to his feet, never mind that his legs felt like lead. A quick glance told him there was no Chakwas there to stop his exit. He didn’t want to think about what that might mean. Instead, he trudged forward, gaining strength (from adrenaline? Determination? Denial? It didn’t matter) with every step. He slammed his hand against the panel and the doors slid open to an empty mess. Garrus swallowed past the lump in his throat. As he took in the area he told himself it was because he was scouting for enemies. Of course he was. That was logical. He swallowed again and moved toward the elevator.

He was halfway there when the ship jerked forward. He gripped the mess table for balance. The ship was shaking too violently for him to catch his bearings. It lasted so long that Garrus began to wonder if the ship was on the brink of explosion. Was anyone manning the core? Were they being attacked? Goddammit, if he died now he wouldn’t be able to find out…to find out…

He couldn’t finish the thought. He wasn’t dying here. He wasn’t.

The next moment a red flash pulsed through the ship and through himself. It was gone before he even had time to panic. With it, the shaking stopped and was replaced by the unmistakable sensation of plummeting down. Garrus gripped even harder, praying to the Spirits that Joker would pull them out of it.

The crash threw him forward, slamming his body into the panel for the elevator before he slumped against it. The door slid open and his upper body collapsed into the small compartment. He grumbled out a curse and willed himself to drag the rest of his body inside. He leaned against a side wall and gripping his chest with one arm. With the other arm he reached up and punched in the CIC’s floor. The elevator groaned before moving upward, slower than normal, but still upward. He was still slumped on the ground when the doors pulled open with a metallic screech, only opening halfway.

There was a flurry of feet running in front of doors. No one seemed to have noticed that they had opened. Garrus opened his mouth to speak but no sound left him. He coughed and tried to haul himself off the floor, but couldn’t find any grip in the bare, metal area. He would have to tell Shepard to retrofit railings in when this was all over.

“Garrus!” He looked up to see Tali running toward him across the room. “You’re supposed to be in the med bay. What are you doing?” She hooked her arm around his back and under his arms and hoisted him to his feet. They moved slowly as she guided him out of the elevator into the chaos.

“Where’s Shepard?” he croaked out.

Quarians had the benefit of envirosuits to hide the things exposed faces would otherwise give away. But Garrus felt the almost-falter in her step and the stiffness that hadn’t been there before in her arms. His mandibles twitched in irritation when she didn’t respond.

“Come on. Chakwas is just over here. We crashed onto some planet. Most of our tech is down so we’re not entirely sure where we are. She’s near the airlock, trying to run some tests on whether or not there’s breathable air out there. You really shouldn’t—”

“Tali,” Garrus ground out, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Where. Is. Shepard.”

She stopped and looked up at him. If she heard the desperation in his subvocals she didn’t comment on it. “She—” Her voice hitched. Garrus’ stomach did some weird kind of twist as something like bile rose in his throat.

“Where’s Joker?” he growled.

“With Chakwas.” Her voice was higher pitched and choked out with what was a poorly disguised sob. It suddenly struck Garrus that he didn’t know if quarians could cry. He wasn’t interested in finding out just then, either. “He hit his head pretty hard in the crash.”

“I want to see him."

“There was nothing he could have done, Garr—”

“ _Tali_.” His voice flanged with distraught they both pretended not to hear.

Tali was silent for a moment before she continued to guide him toward the airlock. They rounded the corner and Garrus could see Joker sitting on a small crate while Chakwas performed an exam on him.

“You,” Garrus said, his voice rough with emotions he refused to process. All he could accept was the anger that was coursing through him and suddenly erasing all his pain. He pulled himself off of Tali’s arm and straightened to his full seven foot height. “What happened down there? Why didn’t you wait? Why didn’t you—?” He hated the way his voice cracked and flanged as he spoke. His fingers twitched at his side and he felt his mandibles flutter against his will in what any turian would recognize as distress. He stepped toward Joker only to have Tali and Chakwas block his path.

“Garrus, stop.” Chakwas was using her doctor voice, which only served to piss him off further.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” he growled. “I _want_ an explanation.”

“She was gone, Garrus,” Joker said, staring at the wall opposite him.

“What do you mean gone? I _saw_ her, Joker. She was running. She was _alive_.” A keen broke loose from him, whether it was from the pain physical pain in his chest or emotional, he didn’t know and didn’t care.

“Garrus, let me check over you. You really shouldn’t be moving this much.”

He batted Chakwas away. Joker finally looked up, a few tears tracking down his face. Garrus felt his anger slipping through his hands at the hopeless look in his pilot’s, his friend’s, eyes.

“She made it to the beam, but we couldn’t raise her. Everything was going to hell at the end. We stayed as long as we could, but Hackett gave the order to get as clear we could. He didn’t even mention her.”

Garrus let out another keen, this time not even fighting it, and leaned against the wall, slowly slipping down it into a sitting position. His armor against the steel wall screeched. He buried his face in his hands.

“What happened?”

“The Citadel exploded.” Joker’s voice sounded as empty as Garrus felt. He was looking at the wall again, but Garrus could tell he was seeing something else entirely. “Then there was this…flash, of red. It passed through the ship even when we were in FTL.” The disbelief in his voice was palpable. “I’m pretty sure it caused the crash.”

“What other losses?” Garrus’ voice was all professionalism and steadiness, anything to hide the growing feeling of _no, no, no_ that was crushing his lungs.

It was quiet for so long Garrus almost forgot he asked a question. “EDI,” Joker choked out. He coughed once to shake the waiver from his voice. “With the flash, she…she, uh…she hasn’t woken up. She won’t wake up.”

There was quiet for a moment. Even Tali and Chakwas a few feet away fell silent, though they didn’t turn to look.

“I’m sorry, Joker.”

“Yeah.”

Again, quiet filled the tiny airlock and hallway while Garrus put together the pieces of a puzzle he knew was better left unsolved.

“When—” his voice was trembling. He shook his head and looked up at Joker. “When did they find her body?”

To this Joker frowned. Even Tali and Chakwas turned to look now, not bothering to hide their confusion.

“The Citadel _exploded_ , Garrus.” Joker paused, his brows coming together before he continued. “She was on it when it did.”

“I know that,” Garrus ground out. “When did they find her? When did we hear back from the admiral?”

Joker’s frown deepened. “The red flash knocked out all our systems. We haven’t heard anything since the crash two hours ago.”

Before Joker was even finished speaking Garrus hauled himself upright, groaning slightly as his chest fought back against the movement.

“Garrus, I know that look. Don’t do this. She—she didn’t make it.”

Garrus stood and looked at him, his whole body going still. “That woman was spaced and survived. That woman took out a Collector base. That woman defeated a reaper on foot. That woman united the fucking galaxy and saved our asses more times than either of us can count.” Garrus drew himself up to his full height. “She’s not dead yet.”

He marched out of the hall, against the protests of Tali and Chakwas. He passed by a rush of crew members who were carrying bits and pieces of the ship to other areas. He pressed the elevator panel, despite the frozen doors. He pressed the panel again, and again, and again. He had to start working. They had to get the ship moving. They had to get the coms up. They had to repair the FTL systems. They had to fix the goddamned elevator.

He punched one of the frozen doors with a growl, and then shoved his way into the compartment. “Can someone bring me a set of biotic wrenches, a screwdriver, and a hydroponic blaster?” Garrus shouted into the CIC.

It was only a few minutes before someone had brought him what he needed. He arranged the tools where he could grab them easily and set to work getting the panel off. If they were to get anywhere in moving the repairs along, this elevator had to be functional. And if there was anything Garrus was good at, it was fixing things and shooting things. And with the apparent lack of enemies, fixing was what he would do. Hell, he might even put in the railing. Shepard would hate it. He almost smiled at the thought.


	2. Bargaining

Garrus grunted as he pulled a grate off the wall of the engineering deck below the core. The eezo balance was off and the only way to reach the damned thing was through reconfiguring the various wiring and chemical rods for optimal eezo flow. It was a bit different than staring at his screen in the battery, working out mathematical equations all day so that the gun would be ready for anything. This was much heavier on the electronic and eezo side of science. It wasn’t his strongest skill, but there were only so many people on board, and so many systems had to be repaired. He unhooked his hand-held blow torch from his belt and got started, skills be damned.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been down there – fixing, fine tuning, fucking up, fixing again – but when he heard someone descending down the stairs he realized he’d been in relative silence, outside of his own clanking and thunking, for quite some time.

It didn’t matter though. The eezo flow had been perfect for almost three minutes and now it was moving in the opposite direction entirely. He had to shut the whole thing down and start from scratch.

The person cleared their throat, somewhere a few feet to his left.

“Can it wait for a bit? I’m in the middle of some—”

“Calibrations?” she finished for him.

His mandibles pulled tight to his face as he frowned and turned to see Liara standing there, two cups in hand.

“Dextro coffee,” she said, holding one out to him.

He took it after a moment, unsure what sort of pretense Liara had to be coming down here. And giving him coffee. “Thanks.” He took a sip, expecting it to be wrong, but it was exactly right: two pumps of creamer and three sugars. “How did you know–?” he lifted the cup to indicate its contents before taking a larger gulp. The drink was almost scalding but, again, that was how he liked it.

Liara swallowed and smiled nervously, her fingers twitching against her cup. The red light on the deck walls was the only illumination in the room and it cast her blue skin to a foreign purple. “On the SR1, Shepard made it a point to learn everyone’s favorite drinks. I asked her about it once, when we were…” the sentence trailed off as they both filled in the gap of knowledge she clearly didn’t want to voice. Garrus knew Liara and Shepard had been together _before_ , but he had never taken any issue with Liara over that. He was only now seeing that she clearly did. Liara coughed and continued. “Anyway, I asked her what everyone liked. I was having difficulty connecting with everyone at that point and I figured it was good knowledge to have in case I needed it later.”

Garrus flicked his mandible in a smirk. “A Shadow Broker in the making.”

Liara smiled at that, some of the tension seeming to leave her with it. “I suppose so.”

There was an awkward moment while Garrus looked from the panel he was working on to Liara in between sips. “Something you need, Liara?”

“Yes, actually.” She took a deep breath. “I’m worried about you, Garrus. You haven’t slept in three days. Tali told me she found you asleep against the galaxy map console yesterday, and that you refused to go get some rest.”

“Do I take orders from Tali, now?” he snapped. He was beginning to like his coffee less and less.

“No,” she returned coolly. “But we’re worried about you. All of us are.”

“So everyone’s talked about this? You’ve reached a consensus?” he asked, trying to keep the anger that had bubbled in his throat out of his voice.

Liara pursed her lips and frowned. “No. Everyone’s working. But they’re resting, too. Except you.”

Garrus’ mandibles pulled tight to his face again. He finished his coffee with one large gulp and shrugged one shoulder, a gesture he had picked up from Shepard. He set the cup down on a crate and turned back to the panel, away from that look she was giving him. “The ship needs to be repaired. The sooner the better. If I’m sleeping that’s six hours and two fewer hands we’re behind from where we could be.” His voice was back to that stoic professionalism that basic had taught him.

Liara was quiet for a moment. Garrus yanked at two wires he hadn’t messed with the first few times.

“She wouldn’t want you to do this yourself, Garrus.”

Her voice was soft. His hands froze mid-movement. It was the first time someone had mentioned her to him, had mentioned _them_. Everyone tip-toed around the topic when he was near, like he was some kind of fragile thing that could be broken with a word. But his chest felt as tight and as twisted as it had when he woke up in the medbay, even with his wounds long healed. Hell, maybe they were all right. Maybe a word could break him.

He turned his head over his shoulder toward her, though he couldn’t see her face. “After I finish this, I’ll…get some rest.”

“Thank you,” she said with a sigh of relief. “That’s all I ask.”

He gave her a curt nod before looking back to the panel. She only hovered for a moment before making her way back up the stairs. Maybe he was imagining it or maybe he really did need sleep, but her steps seemed to echo all through the night, bouncing around his head, as maddening as her words were.

 

By the time he made his way back up the main engineering deck, Donnelly and Daniels were already hard at work. They both said something to the effect of greeting. Garrus only nodded in response. He didn’t have the energy for anything other than his brisk walk toward the elevator. As soon as he was inside he leaned against the back wall and buried his face in his hands. Spirits, he was tired. But it had been three days and there was still so much to do. He shook his head and ran a hand over his fringe as he straightened. He lifted his hand to the command panel and froze, hand hovering over the button that had become instinct to press over the last year.

Instinct. Pattern. Part of him.

He took a shuddering breath and pressed it before he could think on it any further.

When the door opened he didn’t move immediately. The little hallway was lit as always. He couldn’t see the door around the corner but there was a distinct green glow on the floor. It all looked the same. He wasn’t sure what he expected to feel, but it sure wasn’t the swell of anger and hopelessness that caught in his lungs. He stamped it down and raised his chin. Shepard used to say that to the team if their morale was lacking in a bad fight. “Chin up, soldiers. It’s just getting interesting!” His mandible flicked out in a smile at the memory. He walked over to the door, took a deep breath, and pressed the console.

The room was lit up with a cerulean glow. Her data pads were still scattered across the desk; reports she hadn’t had the chance to file, potential missions that wouldn’t be completed now. Her computer glowed in a dormant orange. Another deep breath.

His first steps led him to the fish tank. A few of the fish floated at the top, their lifeless bodies drifting uselessly with any movement the water bid. The other fish kept swimming, completely unfazed by their dead brethren above them. Garrus bristled at the sight.

Another breath. He walked past them down to the stairs toward their bed. With every step he imagined how she would look just then, frowning at him with her arms crossed, telling him to feed the fish and to clean out the dead. What he would give to be able to remind her, again, that the feeding VI worked just fine. No fish had died yet.

Well, that wasn’t strictly true now.

Another breath. He stopped at the bottom step. The wine glasses they’d used the night before were still there, tipped over on the floor. Shepard had given him a smirk when he suggested they take them down to the mess on their way down. “We’ll get to it when we get back. They’re not going anywhere.” He pretended not to hear the blind determination in her words. He had even believed them.

Well, she hadn’t been wrong. They were still there.

Another breath. He ignored the shakiness in it this time. He would not acknowledge the lump in his throat. He stepped toward the bed, made to perfection, as any soldier’s would be. He placed a hand on the edge, just the edge, and a small keen broke free of him. Another breath, yes, another. Two more. He sat on the bed and buried his face in his hands.

She was everywhere. One of her drawers was still ajar where she’d left it in her hurry. An oiled rag and gun polish lay on the floor by the coffee table, right next to their wine glasses. The data pads and dead fish. Her favorite ration bars stashed in a secret spot in the mess (no one had found them, he checked). An empty cup on the war room floor (the peach lipstick stain never did leave it, no matter who or how many times it was washed). The way everyone hung their head as they worked and hushed their voices when he walked by. This whole goddamn ship reminded him.

Just when his chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself, no matter how many fucking breaths he took, he fired up his omnitool. He scrolled past the test messages the team had sent off, figuring out who was fully functional and who was not, until her name appeared. The orange text was so familiar too him. He’d stared at that name on his tool more in the last three years than he cared to admit, spent late nights typing away until his eyes drooped even as his hands kept moving. It started after they defeated Saren; the team had gone their separate ways and he and Shepard had exchanged messages. Even after long after he had received the news of her death, he sent them out when the nights on Omega were particularly ugly or lonely. And when she came back… Spirits. Turned out being rebuilt by a terrorist group meant they ensured you still got your emails. She had never told him that she’d seen them until after the suicide mission. After that, they never stopped sending messages any time they were apart.

He tapped her name and the screen expanded, showing their last messages.

 

**Received: 10:46 p.m. 10/17/87**

I know you’re gearing up, or calibrating, or something. But I want you to know… I love you.

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

 

**Received: 10:49 p.m. 10/17/87**

Aren’t you in holo-meeting with Anderson and Hackett?

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

 

**Received: 10:53 p.m. 10/17/87**

Hackett’s giving Anderson the update on the Crucible. It’s very technical. Made me think of you.

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

 

**Received: 10:54 p.m. 10/17/87**

You’re getting sentimental in your old age, Shepard. Or is that the war?

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

 

**Received: 10:55 p.m. 10/17/87**

I love you, too.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

 

**Received: 11:17 p.m. 10/17/87**

Commanding Officers never show sentiment. First rule in very-real Alliance Commander training.

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

 

**Received: 11:18 p.m. 10/17/87**

That said, see you in 15?

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

 

**Received: 11:19 p.m. 10/17/87**

Already here. I brought the good wine this time.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

 

**Received: 11:20 p.m. 10/17/87**

Perfect. Can’t wait.

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

 

Garrus stared at her words. She was so vibrant. Even now, reading her words knowing they were past, his heart raced. He stared at the unfeeling, empty box where he could type in text and cursed himself for not replying. For not sending just one more. His fingers hovered over the box for a moment as he considered his own stupidity and the stupidity of the goddamn galaxy as a whole, because any universe that allowed someone not to reply to Commander Shepard was a stupid one.

Fuck it.

 

**Sent: 7:48 a.m. 10/22/87**

I don’t know if you’ll get this or not, but on the off chance that you will: Hold on. I’m coming for you. We’re all coming for you. The ship’s down right now but the repairs are going well. Just…hold on.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

 

**Sent: 7:52 a.m. 10/22/87**

I’m lying here in your bed, our bed, and I can’t fall asleep. I should have told you I loved you more. I should have done so much more. Please. Hold on. I’m coming, Cal. If it kills me. Just hold on.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you like pain! Haha..ha....ha. *sobs* If there's one thing I love about this ship, it that it has the ability to fulfill all my angsty, fluffy whims. That said: Geez, Garrus can be a bitch to write sometimes. 
> 
> My song for this chapter (and this whole fic tbh) is Hold On For Your Life by Sam Tinnesz, acoustic version. So if you want, give that a listen. And if you want more songs, I have like a whole Shakarian playlist bc I'm obsessed and cannot be stopped.
> 
> Anyway! Thank you for reading. You are literally the purest thing to exist in this universe. *hugs*


	3. Archived

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small background I failed to include. Cal is Vanguard, Earthborn, Sole Survivor. Renegade when pissy and when dealing with evil bastards, Paragon when it comes down to the nitty gritty of morals.
> 
> And, cuuueee flashbacking. Garrus is currently in Oct. 2187, as a point of reference.

**Received: 3:41 p.m. 3/24/86**

We’re docking now. Looks like there’s already reporters out there.

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 3:42 p.m. 3/24/86**

I wish you would have let me stay with you. At least until you got to the human embassy. Reporters are worse than collectors.

(Sent from private terminal of Gunnery Chief Garrus Vakarian, SS Normandy)

**Received: 3:46 p.m. 3/24/86**

I think I agree with you there. But it would have been pointless for you to come. Palavan was on the way and all they’re going to do is cart me off as soon as I step out that door. Even if you were here, there isn’t anything you could do.

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 3:51 p.m. 3/24/86**

Looks like Anderson is waiting at the front. A couple heavy duty soldiers with him, too. Seems like overkill for someone who’s turning themselves in.

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 3:52 p.m. 3/24/86**

Probably putting on a show for the reporters to appease batarian alliances.

(Sent from private terminal of Gunnery Chief Garrus Vakarian, SS Normandy)

**Received: 3:53 p.m. 3/24/86**

I hope so.

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 3:54 p.m. 3/24/86**

Oh. There’s a crowd of protesters, too. Fuck.

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 3:55 p.m. 3/24/86**

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about this part. Taking the mako through a relay? Sure. Suicide mission on a collector base? No problem. Deciding to convince the galaxy to take on the reapers? Definitely. Angry civilians on the other hand…

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 3:56 p.m. 3/24/86**

Just ignore them. I’m sure Anderson wants it to be in and out as much as you do. I get the feeling he’s not the showman type, despite what Alliance brass might have told him.

(Sent from private terminal of Gunnery Chief Garrus Vakarian, SS Normandy)

**Received: 3:57 p.m. 3/24/86**

And as amusing as it was the first time, try not to punch any reporters. Especially without me there to see it.

(Sent from private terminal of Gunnery Chief Garrus Vakarian, SS Normandy)

**Received: 3:58 p.m. 3/24/86**

Ha! Only you could make me laugh right now.

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 3:59 p.m. 3/24/86**

She deserved it, anyway.

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 4:00 p.m. 3/24/86**

Happy to be of service, Shepard.

(Sent from private terminal of Gunnery Chief Garrus Vakarian, SS Normandy)

**Received: 4:01 p.m. 3/24/86**

Well. Here we go. I’m sure they’ll de-activate my tool for the time being. I don’t know when I’ll get it back. Just…be safe, big guy. I’ll write as soon as I can.

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 4:02 p.m. 3/24/86**

Take care of yourself, Cal.

(Sent from private terminal of Gunnery Chief Garrus Vakarian, SS Normandy)

 

 

**Received: 10:56 a.m. 5/16/86**

Hey, it’s Shepard. They still won’t let me have a tool so one of my guards took pity on me and let me use his.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 10:57 a.m. 5/16/86**

I only have it for a limited time. The next rotation is in 3 minutes. As soon as he leaves he’s going to wipe the history. That way, hopefully, I won’t get caught and I can do this more often.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 10:59 a.m. 5/16/86**

Look at me, rambling on with the limited time I have. Anyway, I just wanted to give you a quick update. I’ve been working with the Defense Council and the other Admirals on building a galactic defense. Hackett and Anderson are the only ones that give me the time of day at the moment, but at this point none of them believe that Bahak was an act of contempt on my part. No movements to defend against the reapers though. Shitty progress, but progress none the less. I hope you’ve had more luck on your front.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 11:00 a.m. 5/16/86**

Gotta go. Be safe, big guy.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

 

 

**Received: 2:55 p.m. 6/21/86**

They let me do some trainings with some of the N7 recruits.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 2:56 p.m. 6/21/86**

I know you’re busy and not expecting these. It’s probably best if you never reply, anyway. Less chance of it being traced. I miss getting the pings of your messages, though. I miss being able to talk to you.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 2:58 p.m. 6/21/86**

I can practically picture your reply. “Those recruits are volunteering to be an angry, caged marine’s punching bag and calling it training.” Or something to that effect.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 2:59 p.m. 6/21/86**

It’s better when you say it.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

 

 

**Received: 8:04 p.m. 8/9/86**

Officer Vakarian. This is Lt. Vega. I’m assigned to Shepard’s guard. I wanted to inform you due to your relationship with the Commander that there was an assassination attempt on Shepard by batarian mercenaries. The Commander was visiting the inner city for a meeting with the Defense Council and other allies.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 8:05 p.m. 8/9/86**

The Commander is safe. She took out the assailant and received minimal injuries to herself. She is currently recovering from those injuries in our medical ward and will be there for the next few days.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 8:06 p.m. 8/9/86**

I know this is a lot to process, but I have to ask that you not reply to any of these messages. Creating that linkage will make it impossible for Shepard to send messages in the future. But I felt you had a right to know. I will have her send something as soon as she’s returned to her apartment.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 8:11 p.m. 8/9/86**

I’m doing everything I can to protect her, sir. Over and out.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

 

 

**Received: 12:48 p.m. 8/12/86**

I’m going to murder Vega, Garrus. Murder him. I’m going to murder my guard and they’ll lock me up and you’ll just have to defeat the reapers on your own.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 12:49 p.m. 8/12/86**

The nerve of it! If I wanted to tell you about a goddamn assassination ATTEMPT, I would do so. I don’t need my fucking guard sending messages to people across the fucking galaxy like I’m some goddamn child who misbehaved in school.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 12:52 p.m. 8/12/86**

Who tries to assassinate someone when we’re on the brink of galactic war? Who does that, Garrus?!

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 12:53 p.m. 8/12/86**

I swear I’m losing my mind. Everyone’s so goddamned busy playing politics and I can’t fucking DO anything because I turned myself in. LIKE AN IDIOT.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 12:54 p.m. 8/12/86**

I don’t know why I did this. I’d be better used in the field creating actual allies and building our strengths for this war but instead I get to twiddle my useless thumbs in my apartment or bang my useless head off a desk in pointless meetings.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 12:56 p.m. 8/12/86**

Fuck. I just lost a minute because I was dwelling. Picture it, Garrus. Me. Dwelling. I’m not cut for this diplomat shit. It’s messing with my head.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 12:57 p.m. 8/12/86**

I’m sorry if Vega worried you. All the other guy got in was a lucky shot to the shoulder that dislocated it and broke my clavicle. It pissed me off more than anything. You love my clavicles. I shot him in all four eyes just on principle.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 12:58 p.m. 8/12/86**

It only took a few days to heal. Something about the way I used my biotics even after the bone was broken. They told me they set it back straight, but if they messed it up I have their information. Which as I type it, sounds more sinister than it really is.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 12:59 p.m. 8/12/86**

And on further thought, I don’t think I will kill Vega. I will kick his ass, though.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 1:00 p.m. 8/12/86**

All joking aside, I just want you to know I’m safe. Still pushing for more defenses to be built. Still fighting with what little I have. I just wish you were here. I would kill to hear your voice right now, telling me what I need to hear and not what I want to. I hope you’re having better luck with the Hierarchy.

(Sent from private terminal of Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy)

 

 

**Received: 6:42 p.m. 9/29/86**

Garrus. The reapers hit Earth. They might already be there but if not I’m sure they’re on their way. Please get me a status report asap. Currently aboard the Normandy departing from earth. I’ll give you updates as I get them.

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 3:45 a.m. 10/3/86**

Liara found the schematics for a prothean device on Mars. It looks like it’s a weapon against the reapers. Hackett is currently gathering a task force to build it and attempting to find support for earth. He told me Palavan got hit hard. Stay safe, big guy. Still waiting on that status report.

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 5:13 a.m. 10/7/86**

I’m holding a summit for earth with the salarian ambassador and the Primarch. We’re inbound to Menae to pick him up. Get back with me on your location asap. We should be there in six hours.

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

**Received: 8:45 a.m. 10/7/86**

You better not be fucking dead, Garrus. I swear on any gods or spirits or whatever the fuck comes after this that I will bring you back from the goddamn dead. They can’t have you. Not yet. I’ll be there soon.

(Sent from private terminal of Commander Cal Shepard, Alliance Navy)

 

 

**Sent: 1:15 p.m. 10/26/87**

I’ve been re-reading our messages.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Sent: 1:18 p.m. 10/26/87**

It’s so obvious, looking back, how in love with you I was. I wonder if you knew before and never said anything.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Sent: 1:21 p.m. 10/26/87**

Hell, maybe we both knew and never said anything. That would be our style.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Sent: 1:27 p.m. 10/26/87**

Why didn’t we ever say anything?

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Sent: 1:33 p.m. 10/26/87**

When I find you I won’t stop saying it. I’ll tell you every day, all day, just how much I love you. No more dancing around it. No more minced words. You’ll get so sick of it you’ll probably punch me in the face.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Sent: 1:36 p.m. 10/26/87**

I can’t wait.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiiiiiii ^_^
> 
> I literally cannot believe that I updated in less than a week. This strange new frequency of writing scares me. BUT I'm glad I can get the content out faster bc I need this story out of me before I explode and die.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. You are the truest, goodest, cooliest thing this side of the universe. *hugs*
> 
> P.S. I changed the formatting for the messages from the last chapter bc it SUCKED and this is better I think, esp for chronological messaging.


	4. Depression

**Sent: 8:00 a.m. 11/1/87**  
We just got the report from Hackett. No one’s been able to assess the wreckage of the Citadel on Earth yet. His team is working on the relays to get us there, though. He’s been updating me as often as he can.  
(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

 **Sent: 8:03 a.m. 11/1/87**  
They haven’t found you yet. I know it’s been weeks now, but no one’s found you. So sit tight.  
(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

 **Sent: 8:10 a.m. 11/1/87**  
Status report: Most of the ship’s systems have been fully repaired. The biggest problems are the FTL systems and EDI. Cerberus integrated EDI fully into the core functions, meaning she needs to be up and running if the ship is going anywhere. Some kind of failsafe they put in if you ever tried to take her out, I think. Tali’s been working on it. I wish there was more to say than that. Whatever that flash was... It isn’t something we’ve ever dealt with before. But we’ll solve it. I’ll write again when I know more.  
(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

  
“Garrus, can you come down here?”

Tali’s voice crackled in and out as it filled the cockpit. Garrus cursed under his breath and put back the wires he had been rearranging.

“Hey, at least it comes through. Better than yesterday.” Joker gave him a dry smile and leaned back in his seat.

Garrus sighed as he stood up. “Not good enough.” He set his tools down and tucked the wires safely under the panel again. “Don’t touch anything until I get back.”

Joker held his empty hands up. “Sounds good. Hey, um, if there’s any changes, let me know?”

Joker fiddled with a tool in his lap that Garrus knew damn well he had no idea what to do with. Even though Joker wasn’t looking at him, Garrus nodded. “Will do.”

 

Tali didn’t look up when he walked into the engineering deck. Donnelly and Daniels were peering around the corner at her station, at the clanking and fiery sounds. In the first week, Tali had brought a table down into the deck to lay EDI out on. Since then, she had been working tirelessly to “start” EDI again. Given her experience with the geth, she had presumed that the task would be fairly simple. The second week in she had been less optimistic. “I don’t know, Garrus. It’s like the technology has been vaporized. Without a base code, that leaves me at square one. Let alone how fried the entire hardware is.”

So when Garrus approached the table he was unprepared for the twitch in the AI’s finger. Tali cried out, throwing both hands up in the air.

Garrus rushed the table and peered down at EDI’s, still immobile, face before turning to Tali. Even with the mask, she had glee written all over her. “What’s going on?”

“I figured it out!” She bounced back and forth on her toes and pulled up the data pad in her hand, scanning the information and looking up at him. “By my calculations, EDI should be online within a half hour.”

Garrus’ knees nearly buckled as a wave of relief washed through him. He gripped the table for support, hoping she hadn’t caught it. “You’re kidding.” His voice trailed off as he looked at the AI again. Her face still hadn’t changed, but both hands were beginning to move now. “How is this possible?”

“Mostly because I’m stubborn. I had to fix EDI herself first, because even if I could find or recreate her code, it would be useless if she couldn’t support it. That was simple enough, but I was having no luck recreating or igniting any anything that even resembled start up. But when you got the extranet up, albeit limited, I had an idea. I was able to look up Cerberus data bases through one of our consoles, and after some serious hacking, I found the backups.”

Garrus frowned at her. “Backups?”

“Yes, Garrus, backups.” He could practically hear her eyes roll. “EDI backed herself up to the same Cerberus database weekly. None of us, including Cerberus I think, knew it was still active after she took over this body. And whatever the red flash was, apparently it didn’t hit this. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, but I was able to crack the code. I’m uploading her now.”

Garrus jaw dropped as EDI’s hand lifted to touch her head. Her face still hadn’t changed but her legs were beginning to shift.

“Oh. That was fast.”

“I need to get Joker.”

Garrus rarely sprinted when he was indoors. He was seven feet tall. He didn’t need to move fast to get places quickly in a ship designed for humans. But he ran now. And once in the CIC, people cleared a path just at the sight of it. He stopped with no small amount of noise when he got to the cockpit, making Joker jump and drop whatever he’d been fiddling with with a clatter.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Garrus. Give a guy a–”

“She’s waking up.”

The words seemed to dissolve in Joker’s mouth. His arms fell limp at his side the same as his tongue had gone in his mouth.

“Joker, she’s waking up _now._ You need to come.”

While Garrus never ran inside, he was certain he’d never seen Joker run. Anywhere. But Joker was sprinting now, almost faster than Garrus’ run. He followed close behind and tried to ignore the unusual cracks that came with Joker’s every other step. By the time the elevator brought them all the way down, Joker was slowing. Garrus paged Chakwas, knowing an adrenaline fueled excursion when he saw one. Joker ran out of the compartment and Garrus thanked the spirits the doors to engineering were automatic or else Joker might have broken his hand in his impatience. As they both rounded the corner, they froze mid-step at the sight before them.

EDI was sitting upright on the table, examining and flexing her hands. Tali was saying something to her that Garrus couldn’t quite hear. EDI looked at her and back to her hands again more than once. It felt like an eternity passed before Joker was finally able to breathe, to take a shaky step forward.

EDI looked up at him and grinned. Garrus had never seen the AI smile before, not anything more than a smirk. But now she was beaming. She pushed herself off the metal slab onto shaky legs. She stared at the legs in something that was a mix of confusion and concentration for a moment before her legs remained as they should. She looked up at Joker, still beaming, and walked toward him. Joker still hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. He only watched her, gaping, as she walked toward him. When she was close enough she threw her arms around him, albeit gently, and clutched him tight. A strangled, joyful sound escaped Joker as he pulled her impossibly closer, and not as gently as EDI had been.

“I thought you were gone,” he murmured into her shoulder.

EDI let out a soft laugh. “I am an AI, Joker. I always kept backups to preserve my core functions in case of a Cerberus attack.”

Joker pulled back to look at her and placed one of his hands on her cheek. EDI wiped at the tears on his cheeks, even as they were replaced with fresh ones moments later.

“I don’t care why you did it. I’m just glad you did.” Joker’s voice was so small, so intimate, Garrus suddenly felt his presence intrusive. He took a moment to examine a part of the wall he’d never particularly appreciated before. Tali was suddenly very interested in her data pad.

Garrus fidgeted where he stood, examining his armored feet. He understood how they must feel to be reunited, but he needed to update EDI on the situation and he needed her input to help repair the ship. There would be plenty of time for them to be together. They would have plenty moments of welcome togetherness. Shepard was still out there and they didn’t have any time.

He looked up, words already coming to the surface as his mind raced ahead of him, but they died in his throat as he took in the sight before him. Their heads were bent together, eyes closed and with soft smiles playing at their lips. His throat tightened and his stomach twisted. Turians didn’t have the ability to cry the way levos did, but he had to fight the keen that threatened to escape him.

“I’ll uh–” he cleared his throat, partially to get their attention, and partially to rid himself of the pervasive lump in his throat. “I’ll leave you both to it. EDI, when you have a moment, I need to brief you on the situation. I’ll be in the cockpit.” Garrus hesitated only enough to see Tali turn in her head in a quizzical way. They made eye contact for a moment before he rushed out of small core hallway that was shrinking by the second.

When the doors to the elevator closed he leaned against the back wall. His breaths came in ragged bursts. He couldn’t think. He kept seeing EDI and Joker – him and Shepard – with their head pressed together. Close. Intimate. Happy.

Alive.

He slammed the button on wall and let out a snarl. The elevator ascended one level before stopping. Garrus, fully prepared in his anger and despair to march out without hesitation, froze.

He was greeted with the wall of the dead. Names of friends and colleagues. He remembered their lives, how very alive they had been, and their deaths with so much clarity. Even the ones he hadn’t known well, he’d made sure to commit their record to memory. Every accomplishment and amount of bravery they had shown surmounted to a name plate on a wall. He unwittingly pictured Shepard’s nameplate, placed in the center, separate from the others. She would have hated that.

A wave of nausea swept over him and he growled, gripping the door frame of the elevator for support. He stared at the names, willing the unwelcome image to remove itself, but it only crystallized and cemented. Another growl ripped through his chest. He pushed of the door frame and marched past fellow crewman and into the battery.

He locked the door as it closed. He hadn’t been inside the battery since the night before landing on Earth. A few crates and carts had been shoved into the space for the time being. Little use for a thanix canon on a downed ship. His work station was largely untouched outside of a few tools and datapads scattered on the floor from the crash. And Shepard’s mug. He picked it up where it had fallen, moved fluidly and calmly as though his chest wasn’t tightening with every breath. It was chipped at one edge. She wouldn’t like that. He turned it over to inspect for more damages and found a lipstick stain in the familiar nude pink she always wore (it never would come off, no matter who washed it).

 

_The battery door opened with a quiet swish. Garrus didn’t need to turn to know who it was. “I think you might be addicted to coffee, if that’s something humans can be addicted to,” he stated, smelling the drink before he saw it._

_“Nonsense. I drink a perfectly regular amount,” she chided, slipping her arm around his waist where he stood and peering around his arm at his work. She took a sip. “That doesn’t look good,” she stated, indicating the map before them with her cup._

_“It’s not,” he sighed. “More civilian casualties. We evacuated as many as possible before the Hierarchy pulled out and there are still…too many.”_

_“Hey.” She nudged him in the side. He tore his gaze away from the map and looked down at her. Her red hair had an almost eerie glow cast to it by the map before them, but her eyes were sparkling as she gave him the look. “You made the right call. You can’t save everyone.”_

_He snorted and turned to the map again. He couldn’t stop staring at the red circles of full cities that had been decimated. He shifted away from her touch and shook his head. “It’s not enough. Not enough when they’ve already taken so much, Shepard.” He clenched his fist and tried for deep breathing. It didn’t help. He felt more out of control these days than he ever had in his life. He took a breath again and slammed his closed fist onto the table with his exhale. The silence that rang after was almost deafening, but she let him have it. After a moment he splayed his palms flat against the desk and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” he struggled, and failed, to find any words that made sense. He hung his head._

_“Garrus.” Her voice was soft, so soft, compared to his gruffness. She set her cup down at the desk and pulled him toward her. She placed her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look down at her again. “It’s almost over. We have less than a day. We’ll make the Reapers pay for every life they’ve destroyed.” Garrus tried to look away, at the floor, the wall, the ceiling; anywhere but her sharp eyes that caught so much, too much. She held him steady. “You have done everything you could. That’s something to be proud of.”_

_He let out his breath in puff that almost bordered on a sob. He lifted his hand to cradle her cheek and leaned his forehead against hers. “Thank you.”_

_She only smiled and wrapped one arm around his waist, pulling him closer. “No problem, big guy.” She pressed her soft, very human lips to his mouth plates. “Can’t have my best sniper doubt himself in the final hour.”_

_Garrus didn’t take the bait to join her banter. For once, he didn’t feel like deflecting. Instead, he pulled at her until she was flush against him and nuzzled into the crook of her neck. “I love you, Cal.”_

_He felt her swallow as her arms wrapped tighter behind his back. “I love you, too.” Her voice was thick. “You know this—this isn’t the end, Garrus. You know that, right?” she whispered._

_“I know.” He pressed a kiss to her neck, the best he could manage anyway, and pulled back again to lean his forehead on hers briefly before straightening. “Now get out of here. Don’t you have a date with Hackett and Anderson?”_

_Shepard groaned. “Yes. Thank you_ so much _for reminding me.”_

_Garrus flicked his mandibles in a smirk. “Doing my best.”_

_She laughed then. “Sounds like you.” She made her way to the door, emptied cup forgotten. “I’ll message you when it over.”_

_He gave her a mock salute as she disappeared behind into the hall._

 

Garrus didn’t try to hold back his sob as the memory flashed through his mind. He clutched the cup in both of his hands and lowered himself onto one of the crates. He lifted a finger toward the lipstick mark before thinking better of it. The longer he looked at it, the more sobs wracked through his body, making his chest feel like it might cave in on itself. His eyes were burning though he had no way to make any tears. He closed them and pressed the cup to his forehead. Deep breathing hadn’t worked that night, but hell if he wouldn’t try anything now to rid himself of the tightening feeling that grew worse with every day they spent slaving over a ship they weren’t even sure they could fix. Every day he didn’t have answers. Every day he didn’t have her.

The opening of the door jarred him out of his thoughts and made him jump. He lowered the cup from where he’d held it and looked up to see EDI in the doorway. Alone, thankfully.

“Mr. Vakarian.”

“Garrus,” he corrected. “We don’t need any formalities anymore.” He attempted to smile at her but feared it came across all wrong. “It’s good to see you up and running.”

“I imagine you feel relieved to be able to fix the ship now.” She still spoke in that even tone that was consistently hard to read.

Garrus frowned at the words. “No, EDI, spirits.” He huffed out a sigh. “I’m glad to see you because it’s…you. You’re a member of the crew. It wasn’t the same here without you.”

EDI nodded and he noticed a small shift to softness in her expression. “Thank you, Garrus.”

“No problem.”

A beat of silence.

“You said earlier you needed to brief me?”

Garrus straightened and stood up. “Yes.” He looked at the mug before placing it back onto his desk again, the same place it had been before it fell.

“Is that Shepard’s?”

He stiffened. He wasn’t sure why it jarred him to hear her name from others. He wasn’t sure he wanted to delve into himself enough to figure it out. “Yes.”

EDI remained silent and only stared at the cup before turning her scrutinizing gaze returned his. “You believe Shepard lived through the catalyst.”

It wasn’t a question. It felt like it should be, but Garrus knew an observation when he heard it. It bristled him. “I know she did. If she hadn’t, we would have heard word.”

He marveled at the humanity of the moment as she paused in what was an undoubted attempt to consider her words before speaking. “The probability of—”

“EDI!” He hadn’t meant to shout. The silence left in the small battery combined with her surprised look sucked the wind out him. He sighed and ran a hand over his fringe. “I know the logistics. I don’t need them. She’s alive. Even if she wasn’t, the ship still needs fixing. So, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get back to work. I need to brief you on our progress.”

She took him in, and for a moment he was reminded of his father, considering him as a man when he finally saw him again on Palavan over a year ago. He straightened under the look and raised his chin in what probably looked as much like defiance as it had then.

EDI nodded. “Very well, Garrus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all!
> 
> Thank you for your patience. I'm so sorry for the delay in updating. I got the latter half of the chapter done, realized it was total shit, scrapped it, started fresh. I'm not sure why this chapter took so much time to pull it out of brain in a way that wasn't just awful writing, but I'm satisfied with this.
> 
> Good news-we're over halfway through! The end is in sight and I've already started on the next chapter, so here's hoping for speedy updates.
> 
> As always, thank you for giving my story a piece of your time. I know the holidays can be as stressful as they can be lovely. I hope yours is amazing and fills you with love and joy. You deserve nothing less. *hugs and holiday cheer!*


	5. Anger

**Sent: 6:26 p.m. 11/6/87**

They’re having a memorial for you, Shepard. A goddamn memorial. How do you have a memorial for someone who isn’t dead?!

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Sent: 6:27 p.m. 11/6/87**

I caught some of the crew getting ready for it. Ordered them back to work. None of them would even look me in the eye.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Sent: 6:28 p.m. 11/6/87**

I don’t know what the fuck is going on or who the fuck authorized this, but I won’t stand for it. It’s disgusting.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Sent: 8:53 a.m. 11/7/87**

Everything is up and running except FTL. We’re almost there, Shepard. Hang on.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

 

Garrus hissed as he burnt his hand on the blow torch. The sheet of metal wall that he was attempting to reattach clattered to the floor. He cursed and shook his hand out as he bent to pick it up.

“Garrus.”

Liara stood in the walkway of his little hiding spot in the docking bay, blocking the only exit, and watching him, taking in his situation. He was standing next to an open hole in the wall, one he had fixed already (which she knew). But with EDI being the only component left to fix in regards to the FTL systems, he felt…useless. Restless. He needed something to do.  So he was doubling back, re-checking and re-working and re-testing. Anything to speed things along, even though he already knew the work was sufficient. He straightened under her scrutiny.

“Liara.” He nodded once and set the metal down on a barrel of heat sinks. “What do you need?”

“To talk.” She took a few steps forward; still blocking the exit, he noticed. He narrowed his eyes slightly and his visor told him her heart was racing. “To you, specifically.”

“What about?” He took a rag and wiped grime off his hands. “Is everything alright? Has something gone wrong with the ship?”

“No. No, none of that.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She took a deep breath before looking at him again. “I want to talk to you about the memorial.”

He bristled. “No.” He yanked the sheet from where it lay and slammed it back against the wall.

“Garrus, you can’t just ignore –”

It fell to the floor again as he rounded on her. “I’m not the one ignoring anything.” He let out a single, black chuckle. “I can’t believe _you_ , of all people, are behind this, Liara. I expected more from you. I expected support. Not rolling over and not even trying. Not after everything.”

Liara pursed her lips. “Don’t you dare –”

“She wouldn’t do _this_. She loved you too, Liara. She would fucking _fight_ for you, if there was even the slightest –”

“Enough!” she shouted. She was pulsing blue all over. He ignored it.

“No. It’s not. Not when she’s still out there. Not when we still have a chance. Not when even _you_ don’t believe –”

Her roar silenced him. A blue wave ripped out of her and knocked him back into the wall. She gripped his cowl and shoved him back into the wall again. He blinked at her, attempting to catch his breath. Tears were streaking down her cheeks.

“You aren’t the only one that loves her!”

For a terrible moment, the bay rang with the echoes of her scream. She was still pulsing, still glaring, still so close that he kept his back to the wall where he’d been slammed. He wasn’t sure how long she held him there with that look while he watched tear after tear roll down her cheeks, but, eventually, she stopped pulsing. Her body fell slack and she brought her hands up to cover her face. She staggered back into the barrel as a choked sob left her.

“Goddess,” she sighed, wiping at her cheeks in a futile attempt to dry them. She looked up at him with a despair he recognized all too well. “What has this done to us?”

Garrus puffed out a breath and ran his hand over his fringe. “I don’t know.” He took to studying his feet over looking in her eyes.

“Garrus.” She sighed again. “The memorial isn’t for you. It’s not even for me. It’s for them.” Her voice was quiet and wavered slightly at the end, some unspoken plea in it. She took a shaky breath and looked up at him. “It’s been weeks. Whether we like it or not, the odds aren’t good. Everyone’s been working, but they deserve the opportunity to mourn, to pay their respects. Even if that’s not what you or I need yet.”

“So do it.” He picked up the sheet from the floor and gripped it hard in both hands. “You obviously don’t need my permission.”

“Of course not.” Liara stood and wiped the last of her tears away, her professionalism returning to her. “But you should be there.”

“Why?” The word came out as more of a snarl than he intended.

Liara ignored his tone. “Because you were together, Garrus.” Her voice was crisp. He imagined that if she had subvocals he would be able to hear a thrum of bitterness in them. “Because you’re their leader now, and they need your support.”

His mandibles pulled tight to his face as he straightened. “Shepard is their leader.”

“But she’s not here. _You’re_ here. And you should be there.” She pulled out a name plate fashioned from scrap metal. ‘Commander Shepard.’ He felt nauseous as she placed it in his hand. “If she _were_ gone –” She swallowed past the break in her voice. “She would want you to do it.”

A glance at her told him she was on the verge of tears again. He wasn’t accustomed to this…emotional side of her. He gripped the metal tighter and looked back at the name that bored into him no matter where he went. “Okay.”

She put her hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. I’ll – It’s tonight. I’ll send you a message when it’s time.”

He only nodded. He didn’t look away from the name plate as Liara left him.

They’d used platinum for the lettering. Platinum. Seemed like a waste of resources. He remembered the countless nights of pulling Shepard away from the galaxy map and her ceaseless mining, long after the rest of the crew had gone to bed. “I’ve almost got enough for the next upgrade,” she would plead, always half-heartedly, always with her lids drooping shut. Her steps would falter until they got to the elevator. They weren’t together yet for most of those experiences. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he’d told her that he felt more for her than just blowing off steam. But those nights, she would hold his hand and lean her head on his shoulder, and by the time they reached her floor she was fast asleep. He would scoop her up in his arms and carry her in. She was always muttering unintelligible orders, always softly protesting, even as he tucked her into her bed.

Those nights shifted after the reapers hit. Too often he was up late into the night with her, both of them scouring the galaxy for resources they could use. Too often they would both fall asleep at the map until one of them would wake the other to drag themselves into bed for a night of restless, too-short sleep. He shook his head at the memory. He let her carry too much then. He let her run herself down. He watched it happen.

Garrus wanted to throw the name plate out the airlock. He settled for putting it down and getting back to work.

 

**Sent: 7:36 p.m. 11/7/87**

I agreed to…speak, at the memorial. Liara convinced me. Guilted me, more like.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Sent: 7:41 p.m. 11/7/87**

Somewhere along the way in all this, I forgot that it wasn’t just me. I’m not the only one who’s– I’ve been selfish, Shepard.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Sent: 7:44 p.m. 11/7/87**

Liara told me they see me as their leader. I’m not doing a very good job of it, so far.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Sent: 7:49 p.m. 11/7/87**

I can’t do this without you. They need guidance that I can’t give them, Cal. I don’t know what to do. They need you.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Sent: 7:56 p.m. 11/7/86**

I need you.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

 

Garrus didn’t hear the words people were saying around him. When he’d arrived, exited the elevator, there were already too many people surrounding the wall. They’d parted for him, stared at the metal in his hand with a reverence he was all too familiar with. Just not for this. Never for this. He had to swallow bile at the use of _was_ and _used to_ and _if_ every time someone spoke. The entire crew had decided without him noticing. He gripped the metal so hard his fingers turned a stony color. Another _was_ assaulted his ears.

He felt a nudge at his side. Liara was looking at him, imploring more like, and nodding her head toward the wall. Garrus swallowed. His feet felt heavy as they carried him toward the wall. His clanking metal steps echoed all around them in the silence. He held the metal plate up and away from him. They had already put up Anderson’s name. He wasn’t sure if he could buy that either. He had been right there with Shepard. He could still pull out of this, too. Hell if he could say anything about that now, though.

A gentle touch at his elbow. He wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there. He shrugged away from it. A human motion. A Shepard motion.

“Shepard is…the best thing in my life. In any life she touched. She always will be.” He couldn’t hide his shaking as he pushed the plate up against the wall. It didn’t budge there. Must be some magnet they rigged. He stepped back and took it in. Hands clapped his back, his arm, his shoulder; offered condolences he didn’t want.

He and Liara stood alone in the end. He wanted to burn this moment into his memory. He wanted to remember every detail. He would need it when they found Shepard. He would need it for the gloating, for the drinking, for the party so outrageous it rivaled the one on the Citadel that happened lifetimes ago. He would need it later so he could _forget_ it, with her.

“You can mourn her. If you want.” That gentle touch, just at his elbow.

He faced her and drew himself up to his full height as he stared her down. “I’ll mourn when I have a body in my hands.”

He left her gaping. She was still frozen, staring at some point in the distance, when the doors closed on him inside the elevator. He clenched and unclenched his fist as he descended. Damned if she could make him mourn. What the crew did was their business. His business was finding Shepard. If saying pretty words – _harsh words_ – was what it took to get it done, so be it.

 

**Sent: 11:34 p.m. 11/7/87**

You were always so much better at this. You always knew what to say.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Sent: 11:37 p.m. 11/7/87**

Are. Know.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Sent: 11:43 p.m. 11/7/87**

Spirits, Shepard. What’s happening to me?

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Sent: 12:03 a.m. 11/7/87**

Don’t be dead.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Lookie, an update in a week! What is even going on??? 
> 
> Honestly, this has been done since, umm, Thursday? But revisions and polishing kept happening. Garrus still continues to be exceedingly difficult to write. And also, I know this is a terribly short chapter. I'm thinking the next one will be less so, so bear with me :) But I'm really happy with this chapter after all this long-suffering editing. But in other news, only one more chapter! Then we are all cleared up and resolved and *looks at smudge on hand* happy? We'll find out! ;) And hopefully before Christmas... 
> 
> As always, I am continually grateful and touched and an emotional wreck over the fact that you read this? You are perfect and kind and all together lovely. Thank you so much. *hugs*


	6. Deep Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of dialogue at the end inspired by the a m a z i n g art of Ron Chan on tumblr. Link is below and dialogue was used with permission!
> 
> http://rondanchan.tumblr.com/post/130587069940/garrus-shepard-please-dont-try-to-speak

Fire. Burning. Pain. Red. Red red red.

Shepard inhaled. Fire in her lungs. More burning. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. She opened her mouth to scream and felt a rib poke further into her lung. A wince. The rib moved again. Shit shit shit. She opened her eyes only to find one swollen shut, the other mostly clouded by blood or hair, she wasn’t sure. She tried to lift her hand. The only thing that responded was the rib. Again. Fuck. _Don’t move don’t move don’t moVE_.

Fire. Burning. Pain. Red. Red red red.

Shepard inhaled. Fire in her lungs. More burning. _What the fuck?_ The rib moved further into her lung. Again. New. It was happening again. She opened her eyes to the same darkness and blood and red red red. She tried again to move her hand. The rib dug and dug and dug and she wanted to scream and her mouth wouldn’t move and her hand wouldn’t move and her body wouldn’t move. _Move move moVE_.

Fire. Burning. Pain. Red. Red red red.

Shepard inhaled. Fire in her lungs. More burning and more burning and more burning. _No no no NO_. She gulped down the air, ignored the fucking rib. Ignored the red. Ignored the scream that wouldn’t leave her. _Breathe come on not again never again breathe_. She tried again, tried to move her hand, tried to make the goddamn rib pierce something. Move. Nothing but pain and red and stillness.

Fire. Burning. Pain. Red. Red red red.

Inhale. Fire. Burning. _NO_.

         

**Sent: 9:00 a.m. 11/11/87**

FTL is up and running. I’ve already radioed Hackett. We’re lifting off now. He sent a team to the ground a few days ago, but no luck yet.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

**Sent: 9:09 a.m. 11/11/87**

I’ll be there soon, Cal. You’re going to be fine.

(Sent from private terminal of Specialist Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy)

 

Garrus shoved past soldier and guard and ignored protests as he marched into Hackett’s office. Hackett, admiral that he was, turned to Garrus with a blank expression amidst the commotion.

“You son of a bitch.”

“Officer Vakarian, it is not appropriate–”

He snarled. “I could give a _fuck_ what’s appropriate. You’ve stonewalled me since we landed and you’re wasting time.”

Hackett straightened under his unflinching stare. “We think we’ve found her.”

“You’ve what?” Vega piped in. He was standing at Garrus’ six.

Garrus’ mandibles fell slack. He blinked. “You’ve–” His voice wavered and fizzled out.

“We can’t be sure. We still aren’t. But it’s…it’s something. You’d better see for yourself. I’ll leave it to your judgement.”

 ~

The shuttle ride passed slowly. Garrus imagined every elevator ride he’d ever taken, magnified by ten and combined, would not be slower. Someone, an Alliance Officer of some sort, kept speaking, talking about the aftermath. Wreckage. Loss. Vega kept him talking. He asked about Hammer, about Anderson, what happened to the other reapers, the reapers’ creations. Dead. All dead. Too many of our people dead with them, sir, but at least it’s over. Vega ran a gloved hand through his hair and said something about hope. Garrus thought it might have been aimed at him, but he couldn’t be sure. What he was _sure_ of, was that this goddamn shuttle couldn’t go any slower.

When the shuttle finally stopped Garrus nearly broke the open button. Outside, it was bright, the middle of an Earth day as far as he could tell. The area held what could only be the remains of the Citadel. Garrus recognized some of the chromed walls of a ward littering the ground in pieces. The wreckage stretched for miles. There were Alliance and Earth military encampments mixed throughout and barrack tents scattered around for the next hundred yards where the debris was mostly cleared. Garrus scanned the movement and found nothing that helped him.

“Who do I need to talk to about Shepard?” he asked the Alliance soldier.

“Right this way, sir.”

Garrus and Vega followed the soldier to the edge of the encampments. Here there was a white tent. The people that milled around and in and out of it as they approached seemed to be more of the scientist variety than soldier. Garrus tensed. Whatever it meant that he was being taken here and not to some general, it couldn’t be good. The soldier walked them in and to the back of the tent. There he approached a man who was staring at four separate data screens, excluding the datapad in his hand. The man dismissed the soldier and turned to face them. He was greying and wore black rimmed glasses. And under his white coat, he wore the green lab regs. Garrus had to fight off the image of scientists from the cheesy Earth movies Shepard had forced him to watch.

“Officer Vakarian. Lieutenant Vega. My name is Dr. Powall. I’ve been heading the search and recovery team.”

“With due respect doctor, take me to Shepard. We can do introductions later.”

The doctor pursed his lips and frowned. “Very well,” he sighed. “Follow me.”

He led them out the back of the tent into another cleared area. The encampments bordered in a hundred yard radius of the space and in almost all directions. He was still adjusting to the blinding light of day when his visor picked up unusual readings, in that there were none, in only one spot. He looked further out, to the center of the radius, and saw –

“What is that?” James asked.

“That,” the doctor said with a huff, “is what we believe to be Shepard.”

Garrus didn’t need more than that. He broke into a sprint. The object loomed closer and closer. No, not an object, an energy field of some sort. His visor couldn’t get a proper read on it. It was a silver orb, glowing luminescent even in the midday. The closer he got the larger it was; swirling silvery energy that pulsed and shifted over its area of earth, not unlike the Prothean orbs, but translucent. He let out a shout, a name, when he was close enough to make out rocks underneath the layer of energy. He ran faster still. He was so close. Energy or not, Shepard was there. Shepard was here. Shepard was –

He hit the ground. Hard. A cough ripped through his chest. He blinked against the light and raised an arm to shield his eyes.

A hand appeared in his limited line of vision. “Sorry about that, sir.” Garrus let the hand pull him up, though he hadn’t ruled out tearing it off. “Doc says no one can touch it. He doesn’t want any more unnecessary deaths.”

“Unnecessary?” The word came out high pitched and warped. He looked into the energy field. In the center, beyond debris and rock, lay a prone figure. He couldn’t make out any details of it, but the sight alone stole his breath, stole his words. He turned back to the unnamed soldier, who was flanked by five others. He’d faced worse odds. “Shepard is _there_. What the _fuck_ are you waiting for?”

He lifted his clenched fist to lay the soldier out. If he moved fast enough he could get them all on the ground and make a break for it. He had barely pulled all the way back before James appeared in front of him, panting, arms raised and eyes wide.

“Scars, Scars!”

Garrus narrowed his eyes at the human. Another to add. More time wasted. Goddamn them _all_.

“Garrus!” The sound of his name jarred him, released the tension in his arm. James glanced at the limb, catching the shift, and nodded. “Garrus, you need to listen to the doctor first. They’ve had her there for three days. Five minutes won’t hurt.”

Garrus let out a huff of breath and focused on his friend. His mandibles fluttered against his cheeks. His arm was still raised, but he couldn’t feel the anger. He felt…something else entirely. Something far worse.

“She may not have five minutes, James.” His voice was low. The only one that heard the waiver was Vega.

“Three minutes, Scars. Then I’ll light the path for you to get to her.”

The doctor finally came to a stop next to James. He bent over, resting his hands on his knees as he panted. Garrus’ mandibles pinched tight to his face as he lowered his arm and straightened again. He fixed his gaze on the doctor, who was only now looking up at him.

“You have three minutes.”

“Right.” The doctor took a few more deep breaths and straightened. “What you’re seeing is some kind of energy field. We found it here, three days ago, when we were searching for Commander Shepard and any other possible survivors. From the impact radius, it appears that this field was a full orb at one point, and that this orb fell to Earth with the remnants of the Citadel. What’s strange, is that not only has the field adopted the half-moon shape you see now, but that the pieces of rock and metal inside, that we can make out, are untouched by the entrance into Earth’s atmosphere.”

“Doc, you really want to spend your three minutes telling us about rocks and metal?” Vega folded his arms.

The doctor frowned and pinched his nose. He looked up at Garrus again over the rim of his glasses. “There is something, someone, in the center of the field. We believe that someone to be Commander Shepard. We have been unable to prove this, or make any contact with them, due to the field’s energy. Any physical attacks leave it unscathed.”

Garrus didn’t know what to say. He looked again at the figure in the field. He still couldn’t make out any details through the swirling energy. “Can I–” He coughed until the lump left his throat. “Can I get closer? I won’t– I won’t touch it.”

The doctor glanced at the soldiers who were guarding it before nodding him on. “Be careful.”

Garrus walked up until he was only inches from the surface of, whatever it was. His visor still gave him no readings at all. He frowned and turned it off. He moved more to his right, past a rock that was blocking his angle, and saw the figure in its entirety. He still couldn’t make out who it was, but he could distinctly see the rise of a chest. His own breath caught in his throat in time with the movement. A breath. Whoever it was, was _breathing_. Alive.

There was something off about it though, something he couldn’t put his finger on.

“They’re alive?”

“So far as we can tell. They keep breathing.” The doctor moved to stand next to him and folded his hands behind his back. “It’s strange. The patterns don’t match the normal intake of breath in a living being. Each movement is exactly the same. Exactly.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve seen a lot of things in the war, sir. Things I never thought would be possible, even three lifetimes from now.”

“Spit it out.”

“It’s almost like it’s the same breath. The exact same one every time, like some sort of loop.”

Garrus frowned down at him. “That’s not possible.”

The doctor shrugged and gave him a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “From what I’ve read about Shepard, that seems to be her MO.”

The name made his heart lurch in his chest. He looked at the figure again. “What makes you think it’s her?”

“The best we’ve been able to figure over the past few days is that this field is a failsafe for whoever fires the crucible. Probably inlaid into the design by a race centuries ago. It’s certainly not anything that I oversaw put into place.”

Garrus wasn’t sure how long he had stared at the figure. Shepard. But he didn’t want to call it that. He couldn’t say he found her just so he couldn’t reach her when he got there. He wouldn’t accept that.

“Why wouldn’t you let me touch it?”

“The field didn’t have, um, expected reactions to the physical attacks.”

Garrus frowned at him. “What does that mean?”

“Whatever bullets hit the field, a massive electrical energy wave rebounded out where it was hit. We lost a couple good men as a result.”

James whistled low. “Ay dios mio.”

“Are bullets all you’ve tried?”

“So far,” he nodded.

Garrus tried to map it out in his head, place all the variables in a row that worked and made sense. He closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He turned to the doctor and raised his chin. “Alright. Let’s figure this out then.”

They sat for hours in the big white tent at a big white table with more people than Garrus could count. He didn’t speak much. He listened as Liara suggested various biotic ways that the field might be able to be manipulated, only for her to be shut down by soldiers who had already attempted to use their own biotics and resulted in the same radiation of energy. Tali and EDI threw around ideas that involved some type of tech overload, which seemed viable, until another scientist revealed that it would be impossible due to the tech that had already backfired on soldiers using it in the initial attempt. James suggested digging under it, to which Ashley agreed, but the doctor and his second in command agreed that the effects of sending the energy into the earth, even on accident, could be catastrophic to Earth’s recovery. Garrus found this excuse particularly dramatic. Javik only suggested using bigger guns. Even Garrus piped in to roundly denounce anything close to that response.

After a few hours, the doctor called it and told everyone to get some sleep before coming back to it in the morning. Liara touched Garrus’ shoulder as she left. He covered her hand with his own. They shared a look for a moment before she gave him a soft smile and left without a word.

Once the tent was empty, he walked out and made his way toward the orb. It was a ghostly beacon in the black against a horizon that was unlit by dead cities. There were only lanterns from encampments, and the beacon. When he reached it he exchanged a look with the two guards posted; they said nothing and let him pass. Shepard still took the endless breath. The only thing he could make out in any clarity was the scraps of metal and rock that sat on just the other side of the barrier. They were, as the doctor had said, untouched by atmospheric entry. Was Shepard untouched too? What condition had she been in when the orb encapsulated her? Was this thing the only thing that was keeping her alive?

When had he decided it was her in there?

He sighed. “I’ll find a way, Cal.” He spoke low, so that the guards couldn’t hear him. “Hold on.” He made his way back to the camp slowly, running scenarios through his head all the while.

The following morning, he was the first one in the tent. He sat at the head of the table, folded his hands atop it, and waited. He wasn’t sure if it was his place to sit there. He was sure that he didn’t much care. The soldiers and his friends poured in slowly, a few at a time. The doctor and his second frowned when they saw him, but sat at his left without a word about it. Once everyone was there, Liara was the one to speak to him first.

“Something on your mind, Garrus?”

The room fell silent and all eyes turned to him. He looked from his teammates to the doctor. “I have an idea of how to get to her.”

“What is it?”

He took a breath. “I’m going to walk through it.” The room erupted in noises and protests. He grit his teeth and focused on the doctor. “Dr. Powall.” His voice carried loudly enough that it silenced his peers. “No organics have attempted to breach the field. Every other avenue has been tested or proven useless. We need to do this.” He swallowed. “I need to do this.”

The doctor took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. When he looked back at him, Garrus recognized a familiar weariness there. “Give me one logical reason why I should let you try this, sir.”

“Because you said so yourself yesterday,” he started. “Impossible things are what Shepard does.”

Powall chuckled and shook his head, leaning back in his seat and wiping at his forehead. “That’s it?”

Garrus shrugged. “I have a gut feeling.”

~           

The small crowd of officers, soldiers, and squad mates stood just a hundred yards back. It was dusk, the sunlight fading into the purple haze of encroaching night. The orb stood alone, the guards having been told to keep their distance. Garrus kept glancing over to it as he strapped his armor into place. Tali was muttering quarian curses under her breath and pacing a few yards away. He sighed and stood, actively not looking at her fevered glances. He was making his way to the doctor when Liara’s hand on his arm stopped him. She fixed him with a stare that was something between resolute and compassionate, if that was possible.

“Be careful.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and flicked his mandible out in a smirk that didn’t meet his eyes. “Aren’t I always?”

He stopped next to the doctor, who kept looking from the orb to the datapad he was tapping at, rather than him. “You think you’re ready for this?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” he sighed, shutting off the datapad and looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “We have a team of medics waiting for you both prepped and ready to advance on a word. All you have to do is send the signal.”

“Right.” He nodded and shook the man’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”

Garrus remembered waking up alone on the Normandy as he crossed the distance between himself and the orb. He remembered the pain from his fractured plate as he struggled through the lifeless ship to get to someone, anyone that could give him answers. He remembered the feeling of lead leeching into every cell of his body when they told him, and he remembered waking up every day since wondering when that feeling would leave. _If_ it ever would. But as he took slow steps across the destroyed earth beneath him, he felt a kind of peace settle into his bones. He was here. He was either going to find her, or join her. He had gotten them this far. Wasn’t that enough?

He stopped when he stood half a foot from the orb. His mouth went dry as he lifted a hand over the field, hovering close enough that he could feel the warmth of its energy emitting through his exposed skin. He took a deep breath.

“Here goes nothing.”

 

          

Fire. Burning. Pain. Red. Red red red.

Shepard inhaled. Fire in her lungs. More burning. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. She opened her mouth and gasped as she felt a rib poke further into her lung. A wince. Wait. She’d gasped. She took another, smaller breath. A ringing in her ears. New. Both of those were new. The rib moved again. She ignored it, and easily. She’d ignored it so many times now. She opened her eyes to find the one still swollen shut, the other clouded by red. She lifted her hand and wiped it off the mixture of her hair and blood. The rib _definitely_ pierced it now. She choked out a cough but forced her good eye to focus on the world above her. Something silvery was dissolving, breaking down and going into the ground behind her. She tried to lift her head and let out a small yelp as pain shot down her neck.

“Shepard!”

Then Garrus filled her vision. Garrus, in all his fluttering mandibles and searching blue eyes and silvery hide that gave a dull reflection of the fading light. Garrus, not covered in blood and not limping into the Normandy, but here. Whole. Alive. She felt her breath hitch and it wasn’t from the goddamn rib. Tears pricked in her eyes as she lifted a hand to his cheek while he scanned her injuries, saying something she could only barely hear as the ringing shook through her head.

“G-garrus.” Blood speckled out of her mouth with the word, leaving its rough, metallic taste behind.

“Shh. Don’t try to speak, Shepard.” She heard the unmistakable waver of relief in his subvocals. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He scooped her up in one fluid movement and just like that she was cradled in her chest. He turned and she felt him take his first tentative steps. Then, without warning, her joy bubbled up in a choked laugh that sent more blood out of her mouth.

“Garrus…”

“Cal–”

\“Don’t interrupt, this is important.” He sighed and shook his head, kept walking. She couldn’t fight the smile as she pictured any number of thoughts racing through his head.

“What is it, Shepard?”

“Tell anyone who had to carry me out of there and I’ll kick your ass.”

Garrus laughed at that. The sound grounded her, reminded her that he was real. Her imagination couldn’t be so cruel.

“I hate to tell you this, but you’re going to have to kick quite a few asses at this point, if that’s the case.”

Then she heard it as the last of the ringing in her ears faded; several sets of footsteps clamoring toward them, a small herd of humans by the sound of it. “Fuck me.” Pain still shot down her neck and the rib had only dug in deeper but she still smiled and felt herself relax into his chest.

In the next moments a team of people in white clothes were bustling around her as Garrus lowered her onto an Alliance med cot. He stayed there at her right side, not letting go of her hand. Someone asked her about injuries. Garrus answered for her without tearing his eyes from hers. “Ribs. Something in my spine, I think,” she added. The team continued to work and she stared at the man she loved in silence while they did. She felt the felt the effects of the Medigel immediately.

“How long has it been? You’re all cleaned up.” The team lifted her up and began moving. He kept pace.

“Later. We can talk about that later.”

She nodded, once, as much as she could through the neck brace. “Gotcha. A while then.” Just then her omnitool flickered and turned on, lighting them all up in orange. She glanced at it as it started pinging. And pinging, and pinging. She looked back at Garrus, one eyebrow raised and a smirk breaking over her good cheek. “You?”

Garrus rubbed a hand on the back of his neck and used their movement as an excuse to glance at his feet. When he looked at her again, his grin could only be described as sheepish. “You would never let me live it down if I didn’t keep you up to date.”

She gave him a bloody grin and covered his hand with both of hers. They stopped their movement gently and lowered her down. More bustling from people around them and more people speaking than she cared to understand. He lowered his forehead to hers and pressed lightly.

“You might make a good turian yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyyyy!
> 
> Oh my god. It's over. It's actually finished. How is this happening????
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this happy ending for my favorite space dorks. This story made me want to pull my hair out most of the time, but I'm so glad we're here at the end. I want to thank you all for reading, reviewing, kudo-ing, and generally just being awesome. This is the first Mass Effect fic I felt inspired to write and now I can't wait to write more for Cal and get into all the other ideas I've had over the course of writing this. 
> 
> Remember, you are the best. You deserve the best. Thanks again for reading, fam. *hugs*

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Wow, thank you so much for reading. This is my first Garrus POV fic and first longer ME fandom fic, and I am so excited about it! I can't thank you enough for taking the time to read this. You really are an angel. All comments and kudos are appreciated! *hugs*


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